Flame and Bolt
by Crystal Dew
Summary: N and Black are both stubborn when it comes to arguments, but Reshiram and Zekrom could wish for nothing else.


This is merely a little piece of my mind that could not be left unwritten because I needed to write something.  
There are no major warnings for this, unless you look deeper into the dialogue and think about some of the implications.

* * *

It was matching, really.

Reshiram, the one who represents ideals; white and pure of look as a hero's naïveté, and of fire, well-related to the warmth of dreams and happiness inside yourself when you let your ideals soar high and cast a light so strong it seems to outshine worries and harsh realities.

Zekrom, the one who represents truth; black and grim of look as a pensive sufferer might be, and of lightning and electricity, well-related to the unexpected, ever difficult reality- like the lightning that strikes and you can do naught but deal with what's left in its unavoidable wake, as truth is ont to be.

N's eyes are wide and unreadable, and though he is a knowledgeable young man, all of his knowledge is surrounded by kind naïveté, which keeps him from the truth, or, at least, the reality outside his little world. Reshiram's head is bowed by his side, allowing the sickly pale hands to slide along its fur. His zoroark is out of his pokéball - he always is – and casting an equally mysterious glance at them.

Them- them who? It is Black, the hesitant boy from Nuvema town that never thought he would be in a castle such as this in his entire lifetime. He's tired, very much so, and so is his emboar who stands beside him, and he wished he could just go home because this is too serious and too silly all at once. Black's mind still did not catch up with the occurrings yet, did not believe this was real and not a dream; even as Zekrom was right by his side, rough skin warm to the touch, sheer power almost causing the very floor itself to vibrate.

N is idealistic- he dreams of the world in which Pokémon are free from humans.

Black sees it how it is, because he's lived through it; Pokémon and humans are invariably connected, be it for good or bad, and to think there was such a thing as a possibility of freedom for either – especially pokémon – bordered absurd.

Black doesn't want to do this to N, such a good-hearted boy who deserved affection and comfort and help- but there's no way around it, not now. He's too exhausted for this. "You seem to be a hypocrite, possessing some pokémon of your own to battle and command."

"They have followed me of their own will. They had a choice. I would not force them otherwise."

"Are you to say it's different from us, then?"

"Of course it is. You humans capture them and force them to fight or otherwise do your work. They are pitted against each other, and do have the chance to die. Just to get stronger, they say, but no; it's for the sadistic pleasure of the trainers. Just to be able to battle and win against more trainers. It is... unacceptable."

This was something Black could not deny even if he wished; he was born in such society, and did not question it too much. He swallowed. "Not all people are there to make them fight. They breed, and-"

"They are there as passable company, as source of food, or other materials..." N's grey eyes glint dangerously.

"Passable company?"

"Unimportant company. Just there to warrant some occasional smiles and affections, when humans only truly care about each other. Why should humans even be allowed to have authority over said pokémon?"

Black glances towards the zoroark.

"Star is not passable company." N says, referring to the dark creature, his tone almost a hiss. Black knows it.

"N," the boy starts, sighing, "There are very, very few people who are like you. I know of at least one. But most people, normal people, would rather only have pokémon as friendly company. Their life tends to be still centered around other humans."

"Why not leave pokémon be, then?!"

"N, please- it's not as bad as it seems. I could show you, I'm sure. But I can't do this right now, neither of us can."

There is a long silence; Reshiram and Zekrom, patient, merely gaze into each other's eyes, awaiting commands.

"... That... Person like me you said you knew..." N began, his tone much more unsure than before. "How does he live?"

"He's a Gym Leader." Black responded simply. "You went through him."

"Burgh?" the green-haired youth asks, as if something clicked together in his mind. The brunette nodded.

N's expression demonstrates that he is about to ask a thousand questions, and Black intervenes. "If you want to know anything, you should ask him, not me. Most people don't even know he has that peculiar thing about him, so."

The silence is there again. N's hand seems to trace along something on Star's back - a scar, Black remembers tiredly – and he, the zoroark, seems to clench his teeth.

"Humanity as a whole cannot be forgiven just because of a few exceptions," N stated blankly.

"Do you really think only the ones who cherish pokémon that much deserve to have them?"

"Only those who would treat pokémon as their equals deserve them."

"N, stop this. There is so much that I have to show you about society yet, I-"

"Let us," N interrupted him by raising his voice, "decide this with Reshiram and Zekrom. If I win, I get to impose my ideals unto that wretched society to help the pokémon; if you win, you show me everything you want. It will be like... a coin toss."

The legendary beings seemed to pick up on the change of atmosphere, their tail rings heating up.

"Flame you win, Bolt you lose."

"Fair enough."


End file.
